Page 85 - FATE & DESTINY
P. 85

FATE & DESTINY


               “Kuzu zangpo,” I said, shaking his hand. “And you are?”
               “I am Pechen, the caretaker of this school,” he said. “How was your journey, sir?”
               “Arduous. Where should I put up tonight?”
               “The NFE has arranged your stay in the guest room.”
               “I am not feeling well,” I said, leaning on my staff. “I should get some rest, please.”
               “Take care, sir,” said the escort. “See you tomorrow.”
               I waved at him and trudged after Mr. Pechen to the NFE’s place. There, the NFE Instructor said, “Dinner is
            ready, sir.”
               “Thanks, but I am too tired for dinner. Please show me the guest room.”
               At midnight, I groaned and coughed. The host didn’t wake, but the students sat up and watched me.
               Two weeks later, I went to Nganglam with Mr. Pechen to get my stuff.
               “Madam Karmola has come,” said the caretaker.
               “Who?”
               “Our late principal’s wife. She came to take her things.”
               “You mean Mr. Bunor’s wife?”
               “Yes.”
               “When is she going to Kerong?”
               “Tomorrow.”
               “Should we travel with her?”
               “I think we should,” he said. “I ask her.”
               The next morning, I greeted ma’am Karmola at the suspension bridge, below the school ground. “I am going to
            Kerong Community Primary School as an in-charge, madam.”
               “I am glad,” she said.
               “Sorry to hear about Mr. Bunor, madam. My deepest condolences.”
               She hung her head.
               Up along the mountains, the downpour lashed us with thunder. And leeches sucked our blood.
               Ma’am Karmola sobbed as we entered the school gate. When she saw her quarter, she fell on her knee and
            wailed. “Oh, Bunor! I can’t believe you left us.”
               Students flocked around her and helped her cry. Part of me wanted to cry as much as they did. So, I shuffled
            back and watched them from a distance.
               Her uncle held her up. “Come on, Karmola. Dry your eyes now. There’s no use crying.”
               Mr. Pechen unlocked the door for her. She wailed louder and shuffled inside. I could hear her cries from outside.
               The next day, we did the handing-taking of the school. In the afternoon, they started their journey back to
            Nganglam.
               As she walked down the path, ma’am Karmola cast a final glance at her house and said, “We have been through
            hell a lot. How can I forget this place?”
               “Madam, see you next time,” I said.
               “See you.” She sniffled. “Remember what I said.”
               “I will, madam. Thanks for the advice.”
               She wiped off the tears. “Bye.”
               The NFE Instructor and I followed the multi-grade teaching. The classroom, adjacent to the office, held Classes
            PP to II. And the other block, opposite to the office, held Classes III to VI. The adjoin classroom housed ten
            students each of the fifth and sixth grades. We had forty-seven students.
               In the coming year, a newly-passed out B.Ed. teacher joined us.
               “Dear, students,” I said in the morning assembly on February 10, 2007. “We are happy to receive a new teacher
            this year. Are you happy?”
               All forty-seven students glanced at him. “Yes, sir!”
               “He would be with us. You must cooperate with him, okay?”
               “Yes, sir.”
               “Welcome to the family of Kerong CPS, sir. Introduction, please?”
               He stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Good morning, students. My name is Tengyel. And I am from….”
               He spoke fluent English, so I assigned him to teach English to the third and fourth grades.
               Two months later, an old man watched me punish students. After the assembly, I said, “Sorry, Memey, I must
            tell you this. You can’t watch us. The school has certain rules for parents.”
               He gaped in his rosary. “But I was only watching!”
               “You’re not supposed to watch. We don’t want misapprehensions with the community. I respect your age, but
            it’s my responsibility.”

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